Well, that was strange

This one needs a little background, or you won't understand why I'm weirded out.

Last weekend, I went to my parents' house to help move furniture and stuff so they could use a downstairs room for a bedroom instead of the upstairs. While I was there, my Mom told me she's been having nightmares like mine, and she described some of them. It's highly unusual for Mom to even have nightmares at all, much less involving specific things that have been present in some of my weirdest ones. 

Mom isn't used to this, and she was really shaken up by some of the painful attacks she'd experienced. Unable to help her get past what she'd dreamed, I decided the best route was to help her get the tools she needed to deal with future nightmares, instead. We spent hours, while working in the room, talking about techniques I use in my dreams to fight monsters by using things that can't be done in the real world, like magic and flying. Mom can fly in her dreams, so I know that she can use other lucid techniques. I told her that when she gets ready to go to sleep, she should repeat to herself over and over that she'd be strong and capable in her dreams, that she'd know she could fight and win. Before going to sleep, she should focus on being aware that she's not in the real world, and that she can do anything. It's what I learned from the lucid dreaming book I had in high school, and though I haven't been able to completely make use of the techniques, that one thing (being able to fight back) got through.

I told her that if worse came to worst, when impossible things are happening to her and she gets really scared again, if she can't fight back she should focus really hard on me, and I'd fight for her. I went on to describe some of my battles, and how I am able to move and shape things.  If it comes down to that, by telling her that, I've given her the image, figuring that when she did have a nightmare, if she "called" me, she'd experience the defense I described, because that would be the image she had of me. 

Then, with Mom's consent, I did some energy work, using a candle as a focus. I designated the candle's energy to represent the forging of a connection between how she feels in her dreams and how I fight in mine. I linked that to how she fights in real life, given that she never backed down when she was in city politics, even when the local police were stalking her. I charged that as the candle burned, it would release energy that would bring out Mom's own strong will, and would bring up in the part of her subconscious involved in the dream state some automatic defenses that would stop anything scary or painful from happening. If the nightmares were a psychic attack, the connection would call me to her, and I'd be able to handle it from there.


All week, she's said she's been fine, no bad dreams or anything. Then, last night, just as I was drifting off, it felt like someone who shouldn't be touching me was. In my semi-conscious state, I visualized and half-experienced reaching out and grabbing someone by the shirt with my left hand, and punching the shit out of his jaw with my right, so close to dream-vivid that I actually heard the smacking sound my fist made against his skin and the grunt of his voice. Then, when I was all the way asleep, I had this.


I'm on that stretch of beach again, city off to my left, water on my right, and that little snack shack that doesn't sell snacks, looking smaller than ever in the distance ahead. My first thought is to wonder why I'm here, but that doesn't last long, as a confused, irritated voice calls out from behind me. "What the... Where is this place? Who the hell are you?"

I spin around to see a group of rough looking men, all huge, standing together on my beach. They look really out of place, staring at the white sand, dark sky, and choppy water. Glaring at the one nearest me, who by virtue of having spoken seems to be their leader, I demand to know who they are, and what they're doing here. It's weird... they actually feel foreign to me, not like from another country, but like invaders.

The men begin to move away from each other, spreading out to form kind of a half-circle in front of me, all giving me cautious looks. The 'leader' says my mother's name like it's a question. He's half-crouched, like he's going to pounce on me any second, but he still looks confused and very nervous. Chills go down my spine, followed by anger rising in my chest. These guys are looking for my Mom.

"Who wants to know?" I ask, digging my bare feet into the sand and drawing energy for a fight.

I can hear the guys muttering to each other behind their leader. They seem like they're coming to a consensus that I'm guarding Mom, and they have to defeat me to get to her. This idea is reinforced by their having seen a different landscape prior to finding my beach, and having experienced some kind of explosive attack that they believe blasted them into this place. Trying to regain control, their leader steps toward me, telling me it doesn't matter. I'm not who they're looking for, but I'm in their way. He says, "We won't hurt you if you just let us out of here. We're just passing through."

I can feel the guy's energy moving, searching for an opening that will take him where he wants to go. When he realizes the opening is me, his eyes narrow, and he tells the others, "Looks like we're going to have to do this the hard way."

Suddenly, every single one of them is holding something nasty. One has a machete, another a baseball bat with nails pounded through it. I see a straight razor for shaving, several knives, a small axe, a metal pipe, and a pair of brass knuckles. The entire crowd begins advancing on me at once, the majority of them circling around to attack from the sides and behind me.

I ignore the sight of them, feeling outward around me for energy that signifies their individual presences, waiting until they're all about ten feet away from me and ready to jump. As soon as the energy around me tenses like they're about to spring, I raise a spiked, energized shield around me and shove it out to a radius of about six feet. Every single one of the guys slams into it, getting impaled, shocked, and thrown into the air around me. Most of them go flying back into the sand. Seven land in the water. Three of them are out at least forty yards. As soon as they splash down, the dorsal fins poke up and start heading their way.

The three begin to swim, desperately trying to get away from whatever is underneath those fins, one guy lagging behind the others as his heavy workboots and the metal pipe he won't drop slow him down. Their comrades watch from the beach, shouting at them to hurry as the sharks close the distance. I can hear one voice nearby bellowing, "Drop the pipe! Drop the pipe and swim, you dumbass!" It doesn't look like the guy in the water can hear him.

The sharks forget about the other two, changing their angle to surround the slowpoke. Seeing the dorsals in front of him, he stops swimming and begins treading water, gripping the pipe in his hand, ready to swing, not realizing that fighting in water isn't going to be the same as fighting on land.

His comrades watch, sickened and dismayed, as he is ripped apart by the sharks, his ragged and gurgling screams echoing across the beach like the soundtrack of a horror movie until one of the sharks bites through his chest and silences him. I look at the leader of my remaining assailants. "Go home," I growl.

The leader barks obscenities at me, and starts to get bigger. Looking around, I can see that all of them are changing, becoming larger and darker, less human looking. Their faces, arms, and legs are a little too long. Red eyes flash from beneath heavy brows, looming at me over wide mouths full of sharp, pointed teeth. The feeling of opening a curtain tells me that their earlier appearance was a disguise they had ready for whatever nightmare they had prepared for my mother, and they've just figured out that it isn't going to work on me.

The weapons are gone, replaced by bare hands and close-fitting leather that looks like it might be some kind of armor, though I'm not sure. Growling, the monsters close in on me again, careful to stay far enough outside the radius of my shield to avoid another hit, but close enough for me to see they still mean business.

From behind me, the force of someone's energy strikes my shield. Nothing compared to the power of the last opponent I fought here, it ricochets off and spins away harmlessly over the water. Feeling out from the place where it hit, I realize that the sender has left a trail back to himself. Without turning around, I focus on the spot where he stands, and send a jolt back along that path. I feel it hit home, throwing him sideways, so that two of his comrades have to dive into the sand to avoid being hit by his flying body. The leader sneers at me. I sneer back, and take a step forward, bringing my shield with me.

When I move, I see the ones in front of me, and feel the others around me, all flinch away. Feeling confident, I stir up the weather a little more, raising my arm and waving it over my head for effect as lightning flashes across the sky. The tall, thin leader, now much closer to me than the rest of his men, looks up, then looks back at me, determination eclipsing the fear on his face. I understand his position. He is the only thing right now keeping his men from breaking and running in a panic, now that they have realized they aren't dealing with an uninitiated dreamer, but a fighter who has learned to manipulate and use the elements of the dream. He has to show that he is strong, or he'll lose them all.

Outside my shield, I feel his energy building up around him, dark, dank, and foul. It's like sensing an influx of raw sewage gathering on my beach. Disgusted, I push against it, feeling polluted and cruddy. As soon as I touch that filth, I feel my opponent twist it and shove, impacting against my shield in just one tiny little spot with the force of all of his power, making a sound like a knife hitting glass.

The spike continues to pound, tapping rapidly against the surface, moving and down in an arc along the curve of my shield, as I try to get a grip on it. Slippery and revolting, it evades my grasp, and suddenly there is a loud pinging noise as it hits the same spot over and over until a crack formed.

Annoyed, I slam a wave against the spike from the side, shoving it away from my shield. The force of the boss's attack sends his energy into one of his own guys, right through the chest. The impaled monster falls to the sand, dark blood pouring from the wound, body thrashing.

I decide I'm not putting up with this any more. These wimps were going to attack my mother, meaning to scare the crap out of her and maybe even do real harm, and I can feel that if I don't take enough action, there will be more attacks, and more monsters. They will never leave her alone.

Reaching up into the storm again, I pull down bolt after bolt of lightning, striking the remaining grunts down. I feel like I'm playing whack-a-boogie-man with them as they break and run, scrambling over the beach like cockroaches fleeing the light, until all that is left is the leader. Advancing on him, I drop my shield. It's not really needed against such a lowlife piece of scum.

Horrified, the leader backs away from me. I raise the sand behind him, and he trips, falling onto it as I continue to shape it into shackles around his ankles, arms, forehead, and throat. He now looks like he's sitting in a sand version of an electric chair. Desperate and trapped, he lashes out, his nasty energy shooting out at me over and over again. Each time, I feel it coming and slap it away with little effort.

Stepping forward, I get right in the trapped monster's face, my nose inches away from his, and call all of the energy I've drawn into my aura so that he can see it. I can feel the storm flashing in my eyes, and he shrinks back in his makeshift seat. Not satisfied, I draw lightning across above the clouds where it won't be seen, letting thunder roll in, build up, and crash over our heads. A whine escapes him, and suddenly the smell of ammonia and minerals is floating on the wind in front of me.

I poke a finger into his pale, gaunt chest, punctuating a word with each impact, backing the statement up with more thunder behind me, building the volume of my voice as I go.

"Don't.
Fuck.
With.
Me."

The last  word comes out as a roar, right in his face, complete with a blast of hot wind. The monster closes his eyes, crumpling in terror, hands balled into fists. It's all he can do to shut me out. He can't turn away. I've got him pinned in that seat.

Seeing my enemy cringing in front of me, wetness spreading across his lap and the sand beneath him, I feel like a total louse. I'm bulling something that's far beneath me, driving home a point that was likely made before he even attacked my shield; that he'd messed with the wrong person. If this had just been an ordinary nightmare with an ordinary boogie-man attack, I'd have wiped them all out and left it at that. But it isn't. They started out thinking they were here to attack my mother, and I have to make sure that never happens again.

Standing up, I poke my finger at the monster's body one more time, in the fleshy area between the collar bone and the neck, where I can almost see a major vein flowing beneath the skin. Using energy, I burn my initials into his sallow hide, red welts rising in stark contrast to the nearly gray flesh. The monster screams and writhes in pain at the first touch. Feeling sorry, I put my other hand on his throat and block the sensation with more energy until I am done, then heal the burn into deep, dark scars. Feeling the numbness, he opens his eyes and stares in confusion as I finish branding him.

Getting down to his level again, I scoop up some sand and melt it to produce a mirror so that he can see the marks. "You know what this means?" I ask him. Understanding flashes across his face, and then resignation. What is he going to do, argue with me? He has no choice but to accept the situation and be glad I didn't just kill him outright. My stomach turns, cold rising in me as my spirit objects. This isn't my way. I don't want to do this. I hate doing this... but I know that if I don't, there will be more of them, and I will not let them come after my mother again.

"You now belong to me," I tell him roughly. "You're my property, subject to my will and my whim. Get up." I dissolve the chair and the bonds, so that the monster must either stand, or fall on the beach. Even slouching in defeat, he towers over me, standing on trembling legs rather than let me see him fall. Misery and fear in his eyes, he waits to hear the rest of his fate. I steel myself against my aversion to what I know has to be done, then I continue to explain.

"You are now my mother's guardian. Stay just near enough to know if anyone else like you approaches. Don't try to interact with her at all. Just protect her. Nothing harmful gets to her, ever, without killing you first, understand? You can use every ounce of your power to fight and defend yourself against attackers, but only in the course of protecting her. You will warn anyone who runs away that if they come back, they'll end up like you. You will destroy anyone who doesn't run. And..." I let my voice become more harsh and ragged as I speak. "...if you ever even think about trying to harm her, or anyone else I love..." Here, I send a fiery spike of energy down through the brand on his shoulder into his bowels, knocking him screaming to his knees, doubled over at the gut, head thrown back in anguish.

The sight and sound tears at my heart. Immediately, I stop, putting a hand on his bony shoulder to stabilize his weight, once again healing the damage done by the energy. Relief shapes his features now. "I'll know, and I'll come for you," I finish, disgust with myself and my actions cramping my gut, making my words sound all the more vicious and cruel. "I'll make you wish you never existed."

The monster's mental state breaks entirely. He reaches out and grabs my clothing, pressing his forehead against my chest and babbling, promising me his loyalty and obedience, but then begging me to either kill him or go away. Pangs of guilt and shame stab through me at the sight and sound of what I've done to him, anger trying to follow them in as my mental defenses try to blame him for my terrible actions.

I can't do this. I'm not domineering. I don't even like to fight. I was just trying to protect my family. Fighting tears, I close my hands over his long, twisted fingers and shush him, telling him it's all right now. The fight is over, and I'm not going to hurt him any more, just as long as he doesn't try anything dumb.

"Yes, Mistress," the monster begins, the name punching me right in the chest, bringing those tears even closer to the surface.

"Ma'am," I quietly correct him. I'm no one's mistress, even if I have forced him into servitude. I can't take that title. It'll kill me. "Ma'am will do. Don't call me anything else. Now, do you have any other injuries?" Without waiting for an answer, I start looking him over, feeling for anything that is not as it should be, ignoring the return of that look of confusion on his face as I work on the places where my spikes went through in the initial assault.

"Why?" he asks, the confusion deepening, edged with faint hope that I can see him trying to quash. I want to tell him not to give that up, but I don't know enough about this guy to have that much trust. Instead, I lie, pushing back my own moral objection to hurting him in favor of the impulse to protect my family.

"You're not any good to her damaged like this." But I can see the wheels turning. The hope goes back under the surface, but it's still there. I'm going to have to keep consistent watch on him, using the brand like a mark, or he'll turn on me. Uneasiness settles in as I go over every hurt, using the same power that defeated and dominated him to heal my new slave. No... servant. Just a servant, a prisoner of war, paying for his crime. I'm not an enslaver. I'm not!

God, what have I done?

Sunny beaches

I'm walking along a beach, staying on the wet sand close to the water because the dry sand is hot. The water and sand stretch out both in front of me and behind me as far as I can see in either direction. Off to my left, beyond yards and yards of sand, is a short fence, and on the other side of that there are buildings. In front of me, off in the distance, I can see a little shack that might be a snack bar.

It's very bright and sunny outside, with only a little breeze. I'm feeling really, really warm, even though my clothing is lightweight and loose. The heat soothes my sore shoulders and back, but it feels like my arms and legs are a little sunburned. I can see that my forearms are pink, but I also have a vague memory of being attacked by bugs, and I think they caused the redness.

I enjoy strolling along, absorbing the sunlight. I feel like I can use it to make my arms feel better. I give the idea a try, picturing the redness and irritation fading, the skin returning to normal. I open my eyes, and watch it happening just as I'd imagined.

There's no one else on the beach. I'm not even seeing any birds or bugs, and no fish in the water. It's just me here. I decide to take the opportunity to practice manipulating things.

I feel the energy around me, then draw on it to create a big splash in the water near me, sending a cascade of raining drops out onto the waves. I try shaping it, pushing the water out away from me to reveal more sand and shells, in an arc with about a 10 foot radius. I let the water fall back in, then pull it up into kind of a column shape, and let it fall again.

I try "splashing" the sand the way I did the water. It works. I'm also able to "dig" a hole, turning up a few larger shells, and some sticks. I shape the sand into a big block, then use my finger as a pointer, directing the energy around the sides to create bricks and turrets with windows. Then, I focus a strong wind on it, blowing it away a little at a time until it's just a dune.

I keep walking, getting closer to the shack on the sand. I feel like there's something important, but hard to get, waiting in there for me. It's slow going. The shack is farther away than I originally thought. I can see that I am getting closer. It's just not happening as quickly as I expected. Obviously, I need a faster means of transport than my feet.

I decide to go up a little. Rising off of the sand, I float about ten feet above the ground. I hover over the water for a moment, then shoot forward as fast as a bird, making a beeline toward that little building. It still takes a few minutes to close the distance. If I'd continued walking, getting there would have taken forever. When I do get there, I realize that the building is much bigger than I originally thought. It's not a little snack bar. It's the size of a house, or maybe a restaurant.

I think I'd better be ready before going in there. I stand still and focus on making armor and a shield. The armor looks like regular clothing, but I can feel that it's stronger than steel. Outside of that, I gather a sphere of protective energy, harden it so that it's solid, and build spikes on the outside. I add more energy to the shield, so that it crackles. Then, I make the whole thing invisible. I can feel it there, and I can see a faint outline, but it's now hidden from anyone else's eyes. Anyone or anything that tries to sneak up on me is going to get a nasty surprise.

I start looking for a way into the building. Facing the beach, there's a deck with tables and chairs, but I see no windows or doors in the adjoining walls. I walk around the side, counter-clockwise because I came from the direction that would be left of the building if facing it from the water. On the other side, there's still no door, but there's a narrow stone walkway leading toward what, by process of elimination, must be the front of the building.

There's no door here, either. There's a long, narrow porch, but no door.

Thinking that maybe I missed it, I circle back around to the side I first approached. It's just a solid wall. Close to the corner, set into the sand, is what looks like a utility meter that has been painted over. I look closely, but the paint is thick and solid. I wonder if the door is also painted over.

I start looking more closely. Examining every panel of wood, searching for a keyhole or a doorknob, maybe painted over, I very slowly move around the building again. There's absolutely nothing, not even a knot in the wood.

From behind me, I hear a familiar voice. "Frustrating, isn't it?"

Turning around, I see that he's gone back to looking mostly human. His eyes are still a sore looking mess, but aside from that, he could just be a scrawny little man with bad hair.

I ask why he's here, but all I get back from him is a quizzical stare. I forge on. "Well, you seemed to be unable to accomplish whatever it was you wanted before, and now you don't have any help. Why are you still bothering me?"

He crosses his arms and takes on a posture that reminds me of a sulking teenager, and growls at me. That's the only answer I get.

I try a different question. I speak the words calmly, slowly, and clearly, enunciating each syllable as if speaking to someone who might not otherwise understand.

"What do you want?"

He shoots forward until he's inches away from my shield, about two feet from my face, looking up at me. He says, "I want through." He seems frustrated, and three times, he says, "I want to" but doesn't finish, like he's stuttering. Then, he says, in the same slow, clear manner as I used, but with a very determined tone of voice, "I am going to unravel you." I have the feeling that unravel isn't the word he wanted, but is the closest approximation he could think of. Somehow, though, I think of the crocheting I do, and imagine him looking for a string to pull. The thought makes me laugh.

He responds like I've slapped him in the face, jumping back and giving me an accusing glare. He yells at me to shut up, and kicks sand into the air, pushing it forward with energy. It flies over my shield and lands harmlessly around me. This makes me laugh harder, and he lets out a string of obscenities mingled with gibberish. I see him trying to draw energy from the sand, with less success than I have in pulling it from the sun. Unable to get a good grip on it, he pulls from the water instead. This causes a mist to rise up, and soon there are dark clouds in the air. It looks like there is going to be a storm. Oddly, above the clouds, I can still feel the presence of the sun. I keep hold of that energy.

From the clouds, a bolt of lightning streaks down and hits my shield. I can feel the energy from the bolt competing with the energy I've used to create the shield. I remain connected to the sun as an energy source, and fortify myself against the bolt. It feels like my shield is melted, but it remains in place rather than collapsing. I focus on holding it there. When the bolt is gone, he's looking to see if there's any change.

I've got an idea. I step toward him, and he steps back. I rush forward as if to hug him, slamming the front of my molten shield into him. He tries to turn away, but since he's still walking in the sand, he can't move as quickly as I can. I strike the side of his body, plastering him with the melted energy. An ungodly scream erupts from him as he wrenches himself away from me and throws himself into the water. Steam rises from his searing flesh as he tries to tear off the liquid heat that is stuck to him. He thrashes around among the waves, throwing bits and chunks of crystallized energy back onto the beach.

I watch the struggle, realizing that there's some kind of a reaction taking place. It's not just that the energy is hot; it's reactive in a way that is similar to a chemical reaction. It's bonding to him. He's having to tear off bits of flesh to get rid of it.

I pick up some of the crystals. They're translucent purple, like amethyst, but darker. There doesn't appear to be anything attached to them, so I keep them. I make a pocket in my armor, and put several of them in there. It feels like they might be useful later.

He slowly crawls out of the water, looking shocked and dismayed. His face and posture tell me that my response was totally unexpected, and that he's feeling his injury, which is pretty widespread. The burn is from head to toe, and all along it are spots where he's torn off bits of skin. There's a decent sized gash along his arm, where his claws dug in as he tried to scrape off the melted shield.

He's crawling toward me, and I suddenly realize that there's a hole where the shield impacted him. I back away, trying to close it. He reaches forward, then collapses on the beach, coughing. The first cough is just a cough, but with the next breath, he exhales more strongly, and once again a swarm of bugs exits from his mouth, and his body seems to follow, until there's nothing but the swarm. The bugs fly into the clouds, and a huge gust of wind kicks up. Sand and debris fly everywhere, and the clouds move rapidly away, further along the beach, and out over the water. I'm left floating over the beach, working on fixing the tear in my shield. Oddly, its hardened with strings of pulled shield sticking out of the hole, like bits of caramel that has been pulled apart, and I have to patch it from the inside.